Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,12
we thought through things just a little bit more, we wouldn’t have ended up all falling for the same guy.”
“That’s why we have our pact,” Naomi said. “Impulse control, as it relates to the opposite sex.”
Claire thoughtfully tapped her nails against her champagne flute. “What if I said I wanted your help with less impulse control?”
Audrey reached over and set the back of her fingers to Claire’s forehead. “Hmm, nope. No fever. Wait. Is that what the cupcake binge was about? And you wanting to go grab pizza after?”
“I missed cupcakes and pizza?” Naomi said.
“Sex,” Claire and Audrey reminded her at the same time.
“Fine,” Naomi muttered. “So, what are we dealing with here? A food revolution? You’ve decided to banish salads and embrace fries, cupcakes, and pizza to get out of your rut? Please say yes.”
“I’m not really sure yet,” Claire admitted. “I just know something needs to change, and I have to start somewhere. Why not with cupcakes and French fries?”
“And your house,” Audrey reminded her.
Naomi tapped the table excitedly with her palm. “Oh! That reminds me, I never got the lowdown on Scott.”
“Who’s Scott?” Audrey asked.
“My contractor,” Claire said wrinkling her nose.
“You hired him!” Naomi said, pleased.
“I think so?” Claire said.
“What do you mean you think so?”
“Well, he never really told me how much he was charging me, just said we’d figure it out later.”
“Yeah, that’s Scott for you,” Naomi said. “Super fly by the seat of his pants.”
“You might have also mentioned he’s a little abrasive,” Claire said.
“Abrasive?” Naomi titled her head. “He’s more just . . .”
“Rude, condescending, and opinionated?”
“Maybe a little,” Naomi admitted. “He’s good at his job, and he knows it. And has no issues saying it.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” Claire said with a smile.
Naomi blew her a kiss, knowing full well that she was good at her job and, like Scott, had no qualms saying so.
“Is he hot?” Audrey chimed in.
“No,” Claire said, just as Naomi said, “Yes.”
“Oh, come on,” Naomi protested. “I may be in love with Oliver, but even I can see Scott’s got his own appeal. He wears a bomber jacket when it’s not a million degrees out, and let me tell you, it looks good.”
Claire shrugged. “Well, yesterday he showed up wearing flannel. And it did not look good.”
“Hmm,” Audrey said, tapping a fingernail to her chin. “See, I feel like I could totally work with the flannel. Lumberjack is super in right now.”
“What about an ego so big it barely made it through my front door?” Claire asked. “Is that super in?”
“Always,” her friends said in unison.
“It even has a name,” Audrey said. “Alpha.”
“Well, trendy or not, alpha lumberjack is not my thing. But as long as he goes along with my house plan, he can wear whatever he wants,” Claire said, setting her napkin in her lap as the server brought their food. “And he skips haircuts more often than he should.”
She dove into the fries and closed her eyes for a moment in bliss. No doubt about it. Spontaneity tasted way better than lettuce.
“Okay, what is the house plan?” Audrey said, picking up her fork.
“The house plan is there is no plan,” Claire said gleefully.
“Wait, seriously? You’ve been working on this for months, if not years. You’ve got that enormous pile of samples and crap.”
“All in the garbage,” Claire said. “I’m starting fresh, bringing in whatever idea I feel like at the moment. If that’s a disco ball tomorrow and a built-in stripper pole next week, I’m rolling with it. And your boy Scott will have to roll with it, too,” she told Naomi defiantly.
“I cannot wait to see this go down,” Naomi said, taking a bite of her cheese-laden sandwich. “When does Scott start?”
“He’s there now.”
True to his word, Scott had shown up at Claire’s home at seven that morning. She’d been ready with coffee, figuring it was the least she could do, though she regretted the kind gesture when he’d rolled his eyes upon hearing about her Home Depot errand.
“Actually,” Claire said, reaching down and pulling out some of the swatches from her bag. “You ladies can help me with my first impulse while we eat.”
“Ooh, pretty,” Audrey said, reaching out and running a finger over a lavender-tinted paint swatch. Her gaze scanned the assortment of pinks as Claire set them on the table, then grinned. “Strawberry lemonade! For your home.”
Claire smiled. “Yup. I mean, I don’t want it looking like a gingerbread house or anything, but I don’t want to default to